The last episode of the season, and there’s just enough time for one more in medias res opening. So: Steve and Danny, undercover, are piloting a plane carrying a third person and a whole lot of drugs. Then someone in a helicopter shoots at them, and Steve takes one to the stomach.
Rewind 36 hours and – skipping over a baffling little scene, in which Steve is taken to a CIA black site in Morocco and meets Daddy Fat – we are indeed revisiting, as I hypothesised last week, the bad crystal meth, now responsible for eleven deaths in two weeks. Well, Steve isn’t going to let that stand on his island. The Five-0 bang a few heads together and find the pilot who’s going to be flying the next meth shipment in. Steve ensures that he won’t be able to do any piloting, with a crisp snap of the arm, then gets himself introduced to the drug dealers as a suitable replacement, with engineer Danny riding shotgun.
Which takes us back to the start of the episode, Steve getting shot, and an onboard crisis: Danny can’t fly. So he’s going to have to be talked down, in time-honoured film/TV style. There are, mind you, one or two problems. His cover has been blown, so there’s a gun pointing at him. The love of his life is bleeding out in the next seat. And the fuel tanks have been ruptured, so there’s no gas left. Not unreasonably, ATC wants him to ditch the plane in the water and hope for the best, but as that would mean Steve’s almost certain death, that’s a non-starter. No, says Danny; I’m gonna glide this sumbitch onto the beach, a manoeuvre which, in all the circumstances, would test the most accomplished of pilots, never mind a panicking rookie.
Danny manages it, of course, and Steve is rushed to hospital. Unfortunately Steve’s liver has been turned into pâté, and he needs an immediate transplant. With no time to source one, the only way of keeping Steve alive is if someone compatible donates half a liver to him, allowing each semi-liver to regenerate. And Danny, of course, knocks everyone else out of the way in his rush to offer. Now, I can’t believe that (a) this actually happens; (b) the writers aren’t aware of the metaphor; and (c) I’m actually writing about it. But here it is: the show reaches the point it’s been aiming towards since the very first episode, as Danny’s organ is inserted into Steve.
While that’s happening, what seems like the entire cast is waiting at the hospital to see if Steve and Danny will survive. There’s some memory-swapping – actually, I thought Chin’s was rather touching – and, of course, Steve lives, as does Danny. In a sense, there’s really nowhere for the show to go after that moment of consummation, and it doesn’t try to. Everyone’s pleased; Steve and Danny – sharing a room, obvs – bicker; credits.
It looks like a series, rather than a season, finale – with the possible exception of the whereabouts of Michelle Shioma, there aren’t too many loose threads – and it may be that the writers kept their options open in case that’s what it was. But H50 has been renewed yet again, this time for a seventh year. I wouldn’t have been devastated by cancellation, but I’m happy enough to keep going.
It’s worth saying, though, that Scott Caan’s absences are becoming more and more noticeable. As it happens, H50 has negotiated this situation reasonably well, by turning itself into more of an ensemble piece, with Chi McBride in particular stepping up, and Jorge Garcia getting more to do as well. I like what the show has become, if not quite as much as I liked the show that it used to be. Still, I’m looking forward to season 7, in which the shippers will get their wish granted, and Danny will be inside Steve every single week.